The Reaping
by Erulasse Shadeslayer
Summary: Clove and Cato's morning the day of the reaping.


**Author's Note: They are a little out of character, but its just because this is set before the games, and this is how I believe they once were. Hope you like it!**

When Clove woke up this morning, she felt more refreshed than she ever had before. Today was her day. Her day to volunteer for the Hunger Games. Today, the games begin.

She was never one for dresses, but today she would make an exception. She grabbed both of the options she had chosen the day before and walked down the hall of her and Cato's shared home to his room. Cato was her best friend. Only friend, really. Had been since they were 7 and entered into the running to be future tributes. The knowledge that they could train together was the only thing that made the long hours of knife throwing and plant identification bearable.

Cato will also be volunteering today, predictably. He'd been their first choice from a young age, she was sure of it. Together they were unstoppable. There wasn't a person on the earth she felt more confident fighting beside. Not one person she would rather face this exciting, nerve-wracking experience with.

"Cate, what are you doing? Get up, get up!" she whacked his head with one of the dress hangers. He gave her nothing but an irritated grunt for a response. He rolled over and stretched himself awake as she ripped open the curtains on either side of his bed. Once she was content with his level of energy, she collapsed face first onto his bed.

"I don't know how you could even sleep. I was far too excited." She murmured into his sheets.

"What time is it?" Cato yawned, sitting up and yanking his feet out from under the fallen girl.

"Half passed five."

She sat up so quickly that her head rushed, "Which one do you like?" she asked, raising the dresses for him to see.

"The one on the right." he said, waving a hand dismissively in her direction.

"Well I like this one." She dropped the dress Cato had chosen onto the ground, and went to his mirror to hold the lacy white dress against her body.

"Why do you ask for my opinion when you are consistently indifferent to it?"

She dismissed his question with an eye roll, "Do you know what you are wearing yet?"

Clove opened the door to Cato's closet and rummaged through for something she liked.

"Does it really matter what we wear, Clove? There won't be a single one of those tributes that you can't kill from ten yards at the closest."

She smirked pridefully, "Nor one that you couldn't rip apart limb from limb. But that doesn't mean we should settle for beating them by feet rather than miles with the help of a few generous sponsors."

They were quiet for a long time while she changed from her sleeping clothes into her dress. He watched her like this was the last time he'd ever see her, paying close attention to every move she made, because in a sense, it was. It was the last time he'd ever see her in this casual a state. Soon, every move she made would be a move towards survival, just like they were trained.

After she was finished, she turned to see him chuckling quietly at her.

"What?" she demanded.

He gestured for her to come forward and turned her around once she reached the edge of the bed that he was sitting on.

"Your bow is all caught. You look like a little duck." he mused, finishing up the knot.

He let his fingers crawl up her sides as she turned back towards him, giggling.

"A stunning, vicious, deadly, little duck!" he exclaimed, pulling her down onto the bed.

They were quiet again, so she decided to get up and get the comb from his bedside table. Once she had let her hair down and begun to stroke it with the comb, he finally spoke.

"Clove... if it comes down to it, who would you want to go home?"

She froze.

"Stop it, Cato. You already know the answer."

"So why can't you just say it-"

"Stop. I don't want to talk about this." She said quickly and angrily. But he didn't stop, in fact, he talked right over her.

"I won't be mad if you say-"

"We aren't supposed to talk about this." She started yanking harder on her hair with the comb.

"-yourself. Like you said, its not like I didn't already-"

"I said we're not talking about this!" she shouted with an edge in her voice he was not yet familiar with.

Once again, silence overtook them.

He walked towards her slowly, caution and wary in every step. When he got close enough to touch her, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

He gazed at her reflection for a long minute before saying, "Maybe I should wear white as well. That way we'll immediately be presented as a united front."

She uttered a soft, "Okay," and re-opened his closet to look for a white shirt.

"Cato..." She whispered, still facing away from him.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I'm kind of scared."

"You shouldn't be. It's you and me against the world, little duck. Always has been and always will be until the day I die." Cato vowed.

She noticed that he mentioned himself dying instead of her, but decided this is the wrong time to ask about it. She didn't want to, not here. This was possibly their last simple, happy moment together, and she didn't want to ruin it with thoughts of being permanently separated by one of their untimely deaths. She wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible. The last pure, moment with the last pure person that she knew.

**Please don't favorite with out reviewing, I would love to know what you think! Hope you enjoyed it! :)**


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